


No Destination

by scottmcniceass



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, that's literally all it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 02:15:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/580171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scottmcniceass/pseuds/scottmcniceass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not like they're going anywhere in particular. They're just driving, getting away for a bit. Escaping everything. Together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Destination

If you asked him, Stiles wouldn’t be able to pinpoint the exact moment he fell in love with Derek Hale. It wasn’t like it just magically happened one day. No, it was a gradual thing, really. Or maybe it had been there the whole time, and he’d just been hiding it.

Either way, he didn’t have a date written down. They didn’t have an anniversary or something equally cheesy. But there was a specific day that he wouldn’t ever forget -- and Derek wouldn’t, either, though if you asked him he’d deny it-- that kind of completely changed their relationship.

Actually, scratch that. It wasn’t even a specific day. It was a specific sentence that changed everything. A few words, strung together -- not even eloquently, actually-- that totally flipped everything upside down. Or at least it would, in the days that followed.

“Do you ever just want to take break from it all?” Stiles had asked.

They’d been sitting in the jeep-- Derek’s car had its tired slashed _again,_ and so Stiles was stuck using the Stilesmobile as the current pack vehicle. He didn’t really mind, though, because Derek always paid for gas and he’d be spending time with at least one member of the pack anyways, so it wasn’t too bad.

Derek had turned to him, those stupidly expressive eyebrows furrowed, and asked, “What do you mean?”

Stiles had shrugged and turned back to look out the window. “You know, the whole pack thing, never feeling safe in your own home, everyone on the street knowing who you are and your whole past. Don’t you ever, like, just want to go?” Stiles tried to explain. “I mean, not _forever_. Just, like, a vacation.”

Derek blinked and turned back to the road. “A vacation,” he’d repeated, and Stiles felt stupid for even brining it up. That didn’t really stop him from continuing the conversation though, sadly.

“You know, maybe a road trip, or something. Just to get away. Relax. Not worry about everyone.”

Derek shrugged. “I can’t,” he said quietly. “The pack--,”

“Would be fine without you for forty-eight hours, dude,” Stiles said instantly. “I know for a fact that if you left Scott in charge--,”

“The town would be destroyed by the time we got home.”

“That’s not--,” Stiles paused. “We who?”

Derek’s face looked carefully blank. “No one.”

“You’ve totally thought about this, haven’t you?” Stiles asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’ve totally considered getting away. With who? Tell me. Is it Boyd? Probably, I mean, he’d definitely be my first choice, out of all the betas. Or is it Isaac? You two have that kind of broship going on--,”

“Can we just stop talking about it?” Derek asked, and his voice had taken on that low quality that Stiles associated with Derek shoving him against a wall, or threatening to kill him. “I didn’t plan anything out. And I can’t just leave.”

Stiles cocked his head to the side and took in Derek’s expression. Sure, if you didn’t look beneath the surface, he looked disinterested and maybe a bit annoyed. But underneath that, a little deeper, his lips were pursed thinly, there were creases between his eyebrows, and if Stiles had to guess, he’d say that Derek was definitely biting the inside of his lip.

So Stiles did something stupid. Or maybe something smart. He shoved the key back in the ignition and started the jeep, and then he started driving.

Okay, so maybe it _was_ a stupid idea. He didn’t have anything packed, he didn’t have any _money_ , and he wasn’t really sure how far they could get on the ¾ of a tank of gas. But whatever, he was doing this right now.

Because it wasn’t just Derek who needed a break. Stiles needed one too, okay? He needed a break from the school work, from the constant exhaustion at being out all night doing whatever shit the pack was doing. He needed to get away from his father’s wounded looks. Or worse, his fathers scared looks, the ones he gave Stiles only occasionally, and never when he thought Stiles was looking. The ones that said he had no idea who his son was anymore, and he was afraid of what had happened to him.

So he drove. And they passed by the sign that said, _You’re Now Leaving Beacon Hills, Come Back Soon!_ and jut kept going.

Derek was silent for a bit and Stiles turned on the radio. “Where are we going?” he eventually asked.

Stiles shrugged. “Nowhere,” he answered honestly. “No destination, no expectations. We’re just _going_. That’s all that matters, right?”

He kind of expected Derek to get pissed and grab the wheel from him, or demand that Stiles turn the vehicle around or else (the ‘or else’ usually being Stiles’ death). Or maybe try and reason with him, tell him that they _can’t_ just abandon everything because they feel like it.

Instead, Derek shrugged his shoulders and rolled down his window, letting the sweet, cool air into the jeep.

\--

“Okay, so we need drinks, snacks, and maybe like, those cheap and disgusting premade sandwiches? You know, for dinner?” Stiles said as he parked in front of the mini-mart. “And, uh, shit, what else?”

Derek raised his eyebrows. “Gas?” he said, drumming his fingers on the door of the jeep.

Stiles nodded. “Right, I’ll get that while you’re in there.” Stiles said quickly. “I guess that’s all.”

Derek shrugged and got out of the car. Stiles tried really hard not to watch his ass, he did, okay? But come on, everyone knows that Derek’s got a pretty legendary ass. It’s the jeans. He really needs to wear a larger size.

When he went to get out of the car to pump the gas he caught the eyes of an older woman pumping gas at the station in front of him, and her eyes were narrowed, her expression disapproving. So maybe he hadn’t been as sneaky about checking out Derek’s ass as he thought.

When he finished pumping the gas he waiting in the car for Derek. They’d been gone only two hours by that point, but he had about six missed messages and two voicemails, almost all of them from Scott, but there was one from Isaac, too. Actually, on second thought, that one was probably from Scott too, just from Isaac’s phone.

Derek threw two bags into the back of the jeep and kept one up front, pulling a bottle of Mountain Dew, a bottle of Gatorade, and two bags of chips from it. He tossed the Mountain Dew and a bag of chips to Stiles.

“Didn’t know what kind you wanted,” he muttered, ripping open his bag of chips.

Stiles shrugged and uncapped the drink. “Good guess,” he said, not adding that Mountain Dew was his favourite because he had a feeling that Derek actually knew that.

“So where now?” Stiles asked before taking a long sip of his drink.

“Wherever,” Derek said easily, leaning back in the seat and looking more comfortable than Stiles could remember ever seeing him. His lips were tilted up just the slightest in a smile. It wasn’t that Derek didn’t smile, okay, the guy might brood a lot but he did, in fact, know how to grin. He just didn’t usually do it around Stiles.

“Okay,” Stiles agreed, hand on the gearshift. “Wherever.”

\--

“Derek, you’re, like, twenty. Not fifty. I’m not listening to this shit,” Stiles commented hours later. The sun was starting to set and the initial adrenalin of them just running off was starting to wear out, and Stiles was starting to realize that he was going on an impromptu road trip with Derek. And that Derek had really shitty taste in music.

“I’m not listening to One Direction _again_ ,” Derek said forcefully, changing the station for the third time. He couldn’t keep one song on. He’d find something he liked and his leg would move a bit to the beat and then, two minutes in, almost near the end, he’d change the station.

“Yeah, well, I’m not listening to whatever _that_ was,” Stiles said, trying to glare at Derek and watch the road at the same time.

It was getting late, though, and he couldn’t remember driving for that long ever in his whole life. His eyes were starting to get heavy and his fingers cramped from being around the steering wheel for too long.

When he yawned, Derek raised his eyebrows. “Want me to drive?” he suggested.

Stiles blinked at him. “No, I’m good.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Stiles, pull over.”

Stiles turned back to the road for a second, and then back to Derek, and then he sighed and pulled over, leaving the car running. They switched seats quickly, and Stiles tried not to be too bothered about Derek driving his jeep. It was like his child, and Derek wasn’t exactly the most trustworthy person when it came to _anything_ , let alone something Stiles held so dearly.

But he was too tired to drive, so it only made sense.

Derek’s seat was warm from where he was sitting, and Stiles wondered not for the first time if maybe werewolves really did burn hotter than normal people. He’d never asked, though. And now he was too sleepy to care.

Finally, Derek let the radio stay on one station, something that kept playing older, softer music. Nothing, like, really old. More like the kind of stuff that had been popular when he was younger, that he recognized the words to because his mom had always played whatever artists were cool at the moment, because she was _that_ mom. The cool one.

And he fell asleep, trying to figure out if Derek was humming along to the music or it that was just the jeep fucking up again.

\--

Stiles woke up with his mouth tasting gross and his body aching from contorting weirdly in the seat. Derek didn’t even look all that tired, considering the fact that he’d been up for what must have been more than twenty four hours.

“Where are we?” Stiles asked, looking out the window. There was nothing but trees on every side of them.

“Almost in Arizona.” Derek answered. “Another two or three hours, maybe.”

“Huh,” Stiles was pretty impressed. “So is that where we’re going?”

Derek shrugged and grabbed a brand new bottle of Gatorade from the cup holder. Stiles hadn’t even woken up when they stopped. “I thought we weren’t going anywhere.” Derek added after a moment.

Stiles nodded and grabbed the new bottle of Mountain Dew and took a big sip, hoping to wipe the gross taste from his mouth. When he put it back in the holder he pulled his phone from his pocket. Scott’s texts had gotten almost frantic, and there was one message from his father. After that, Scott had only texted, _covered for u with your ur dad. Don’t know where u are but call me dude_.

Stiles sighed and sent him a quick text saying that he was fine, and he’d be home in a day or two. “Scott’s freaking out,” Stiles felt compelled to let Derek know.

Derek nodded. “So is Isaac,” he admitted. “I turned my phone off.”

“Right,” Stiles said slowly, trying to pick up _something_ from Derek’s tone, or expression, but they were all blank. “So are we going to keep going, or do we turn around?”

“We’ll turn around tomorrow,” Derek decided, turning to give Stiles a look like he was asking if that was okay. Stiles just shrugged. “And I got more sandwiches.”

Stiles grinned at that and turned to the backseat, trying to find the food.

\--

“Okay, seriously, dude, my turn to drive,” Stiles said at about lunch time. Derek was _still_ going, and they’d only stopped once, and that was just so they could both use the bathroom at McDonalds.

“I’m fine,” Derek said tightly.

“My jeep, my rules.” Stiles grabbed the bottle of Gatorade and held it out the window. “Let me drive or the Gatorade gets it.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he pulled sharply into a parking lot-- they were crossing through a small town-- and got out of the car, slamming the door behind him.

“How aren’t you tired, anyways?” Stiles demanded as he settled back into the drivers seat. He readjusted the rear-view mirror -- Derek just _had_ to touch it, didn’t he?-- and then turned to his passenger. “You’ve been up forever.”

Derek shrugged. “I don’t sleep a lot.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows but decided not to comment on it-- yet. This trip was to get away from everything. If Derek didn’t want to talk, then they wouldn’t talk about it.

“Are you going to sleep now, at least?” Stiles asked, not looking at Derek as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“No,” Derek said simply.

“Then turn on the radio.”

\--

Derek fell asleep half an hour later with the radio still blaring. Stiles reached over and turned it down not long after.

He tried to pay more attention to the road than to the sleeping figure beside him, but it was hard. Derek’s mouth kind of hung open, and his head was tilted towards Stiles’ seat. There was no way he was comfortable, because he was way too large to sprawl out, but he looked pretty peaceful.

Stiles considered not waking him, but when the sign telling them that they were leaving California came up, he slowed down and gently shook Derek awake.

“Dude, we’re almost in Arizona,” he said quietly.

Derek blinked lazily up at him for a moment before jumping in his seat, eyes flashing, teeth out. Stiles shouted and jerked, the car moving dangerously to the left for a second before he righted it. When he turned back to Derek, his eyes and face were normal, but his chest was heaving.

“What the fuck?” Stiles demanded. His eyes flicked from the road to Derek’s face. “You could have gotten us killed!”

Derek’s eyes narrowed. “You woke me up.”

“Yeah, because I thought maybe you’d like to know that we were in Arizona, not because I wanted you to tear my face off!”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Calm down and pull over.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to piss, do you want more details?”

Stiles fumed silently but pulled over. Derek jumped out of the jeep and walked towards the trees and Stiles stared pointedly ahead. When Derek was settled back into the seat Stiles didn’t start the car up.

“Now what?” he asked, the state sign close enough that he could make it out. “Do we keep going or do we turn back?”

Derek pulled his phone from his pocket and turned it on. Stiles could see the little alert message reading 15 NEW MESSAGES clearly. “We should probably turn back.”

“Yeah, we should,” Stiles agreed.  
  
He met Derek’s eyes and they held each other’s gazes for a few moments. “So we keep going, then?” Derek asked gruffly, shifting in his seat.

“Totally.”

\--

Stiles wasn’t sure exactly how much time passed, but it had to of been at least an hour or two, when Derek told him to slow down and then turn left-- right into the parking lot of a cheap looking motel.

“Seriously?” Stiles asked, leaning forward to look at the place. “Are you planning on killing me and selling my organs on the black market?”

Derek rolled his eyes. “It’s been almost two days,” he pointed out. “I’d like to sleep in an actual bed. And have a shower.”

Stiles sighed and pulled up to the little office building. “Okay, but I’m calling Scott and telling him where we are, so if you kill me he’ll know.”

He wasn’t sure if Derek growled or chuckled before the door closed between them. He’d like to believe it was the second one.

“Hey,” Stiles said when Scott answered.

“Where are you?!” were the first words out of Scott’s mouth. “I’ve texted you like twenty times!”

Stiles sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I know,” he said, but he couldn’t force himself to apologize. “We’ll be home in a few days, okay?”

He heard Scott’s sharp inhale of breath. “You’re with Derek.”

Stiles rubbed at his neck. “Uh, maybe?”

“What the hell are you two doing?” Scott demanded. “Do you realize that everyone is flipping out? No one can get a hold of either of you, Isaac’s been calling Derek non-stop, Erica’s trying to be stand-in-alpha and keeps trying to get Isaac and me to bring her stuff, and--,”

Stiles laughed loudly, his whole body shaking with the sound. “Seriously?” he asked.

Scott sighed. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “You’re safe, though?”

“Of course,” Stiles said offhandedly. “We just needed a break.”

“Together,” said Scott, and Stiles could hear the implications in his words.

“It’s not like _that_ ,” he said quickly. “It’s just a totally heterosexual, platonic road trip.”

Scott snorted. “Yeah, okay.” Stiles didn’t miss the scepticism.

“Look, Derek’s coming back. I’ll call you tomorrow, and we’ll be home not long after that.”

“Fine,” Scott said, but it didn’t _sound_ fine. “Just don’t, like, get killed or anything, okay? Because if Derek dies and by some chance I end up being alpha, I’m going to kill you.”

Stiles laughed. “I think Boyd would take that position first.”

“Maybe.” Scott agreed. “And you better call!”

“I will,” Stiles rolled his eyes. Scott was such a mom sometimes. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

Derek pulled open the passenger door but didn’t get in. There was a small key on a chain swinging around his finger. “Scott?” he guessed.

Stiles nodded. “He thinks we’re going to get ourselves killed.

Derek tilted his head and shrugged. “It could happen.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I love your optimism.” He looked at the key. “So we’re sharing a room?”

Derek’s cheeks turned just a bit pink, almost unnoticeable, except Stiles always noticed the stupidest things, so he caught it. And he wished he didn’t, because he couldn’t stop wondering _why_ he blushed. “I got two beds,” Derek clarified.

“What?” Stiles blinked. “Oh, whatever, cool.”

“We’re in number seven,” Derek told him, taking a step back. He pointed to the room a few spaces down from where Stiles was parked.

Stiles nodded and back the jeep up and then moved to the spot in front of their room while Derek walked towards it.

Stiles jumped out of the keep, grabbing the bags still filled with snacks and drinks, and locked the door to the jeep behind him. He didn’t care if it was only going to be ten feet away from him. He didn’t trust hotels that looked like they came straight out of a low budget horror movie.

“You going to carry my over the threshold?” Stiles joked as Derek unlocked the door.

Derek gave him a withering look and turned to the room.

It wasn’t _horrible_. It was small, and there were two beds pushed against the left wall, separated by a small side table. There was a cheap, tiny television on top of a dresser across from the beds, and a small table by the window. Oh, and a bathroom that looked definitely questionable.

“Huh,” Stiles muttered, kicking the door closed.

Derek glared at him. “It’s cheap,” he said.

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that.” Stiles commented as he threw the bags onto the first bed. “So, I’d call dibs on the shower, but I’m actually kind of terrified to go in there, so…”

Derek rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen your bedroom,” he pointed out. “So don’t act like you’re the cleanest person.”

Stiles attempted to look appropriately offended by that. “Juts go take a shower,” he said, grimacing.

This time he was _positive_ Derek chuckled as he walked away.

\--

It wasn’t like Stiles hadn’t seen Derek shirtless before. In fact, he was pretty sure that werewolves had a thing for public nudity. But he’d never seen Derek shirtless, straight out of the shower, water dripping down his chest, hair damp and matted down, towel slung low on his hips.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, jerking into a sitting position. He was glad to be wearing jeans because they always hid awkward boners better than track pants.

Derek looked pissed. “The tub leaks. My clothes are soaked.”

Stiles groaned. “Of course they are,” he muttered, falling back down against the mattress. He was about sixty percent positive that someone had died on his bed, but it was comfy, at least, so he didn’t really mind. “Because the universe just likes to fuck with me.”

“What was that?” Derek asked, pulling back the blankets on the other bed.

“Nothing.”

Derek snorted. “I can tell, you know,” he added as he climbed into the bed, turning so that he was facing away from Stiles.

“Tell what?” Stiles demanded, voice higher than usual.

“You _know_ what.”

Stiles wanted to throw something at him.

\--

Stiles carefully hung up his clothes on the towel rack before he got in the shower. The bathroom wasn’t actually that bad, inside. It looked like it’d been cleaned pretty well, considering.

The water pressure sucked, though, and it didn’t get hot enough.

“Shit,” he muttered as he dropped the shampoo bottle. He reached down to grab it just as the bathroom door opened, and he almost slipped and fell backwards in the tub. “What are you doing?!”

“I left my pants in here,” Derek muttered.

“And you couldn’t have, I don’t know, _waited_ to get them until _after_ I was out of the shower?”

“You couldn’t have, I don’t know, _locked the door_?” Derek shot right back.

Stiles sputtered. “I didn’t think that--,”

“I’m taking the jeep and getting dinner,” Derek cut him off. The bathroom door shut loudly before he could answer. Sometimes he kind of really hated Derek Hale.

\--

Derek was sitting on his bed with a brown, grease stained bag in front of him. Stiles inhaled deeply. “What’d you get?”

“Food.”

Stiles snorted. “No shit.”

He sat on his bed and moments later a foil wrapped package hit him in the chest. He unwrapped it and took a large bite of the burger. “Thanks,” he said, mouth full.

Derek made a face at him and turned back to watching the T.V. “Scott called again,” he said while Stiles ate. “I told him we’re heading back in the morning.”

Stiles swallowed too big of a bite and almost choked to death. Derek didn’t bat an eyelash. “Did you tell him where we were?” Stiles wheezed.

“No.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows but didn’t comment. His expression must have been enough, though, because Derek asked, “Should I of?”

Stiles looked around at the hotel room, at the towel hanging off the end of the bed, his shirt laying on the floor beside it, and then to Derek, lounging comfortable across from him. “Probably not.”

Derek grunted his agreement.

\--

When Derek slept soundly, he snored. Loudly. Like, really, really loudly.

Stiles rolled over for the fourth time and glared at Derek in the dark. Derek, of course, kept sleeping.

“Derek,” Stiles hissed. Nothing. “Derek!”

He shifted a bit but kept sleeping and snoring like a freaking freight train. Stiles groaned and moved out of bed. He shook Derek’s shoulder like he had the other day in the jeep and, just like in the jeep, Derek flipped out. Except kind of differently, because he grabbed Stiles roughly by the shirt, the collar making a loud tearing sound, and pulled him in. Stiles stumbled and fell half on the bed, knee just shy of hitting Derek in the crotch, and Derek snarled, his face close enough to Stiles’ that he could feel Derek’s breath on his skin.

“Derek,” Stiles said calmly despite the fact that his heart was hammering in his chest. “it’s just me, man.”

Derek’s hand loosened in his shirt but didn’t let go. His eyes faded back to his normal colour, but he was breathing heavily. “Don’t wake me up.” He said , eyes narrowing.

“Yeah, I’ll definitely learn my lesson next time, promise.” Stiles said, pulling back. Derek released him. “But you snore. I can’t sleep.”

“Go to sleep, Stiles.” Derek grunted before rolling onto his side.

Stiles made a face at his back and went back into his bed. He still couldn’t sleep, though.

“We could stay here, you know,” he commented quietly, staring up at the ceiling as he spoke.

“No, we couldn’t.”

“Maybe not,” Stiles sighed. “But it’s kind of nice, you know? I mean, no school, no pack, no worrying.”

“I thought I told you to go to sleep,” Derek groaned, like Stiles was the most annoying thing ever. Jerk.

“Like I’ve listened to you in the past,” Stiles smirked. Derek didn’t reply, and Stiles closed his eyes again. “So why did you agree to do this?” He couldn’t help but ask.

The question had been nagging at him for a while now. Sure, it was one thing to just _talk_ about going, but it was a totally different thing for Derek to actually go along with it.

“You kept driving,” Derek pointed out. “I didn’t really have a choice.”

“Yeah you did.”

Derek was silent for a few moments. “Maybe I wanted to.”

“Just not with me.” Stiles added.

“I never said that.”

Stiles turned to face Derek’s bed and grinned. “So you admit it, then.”

“I didn’t admit anything.”

“You _like_ me.” Stiles teased, though the tightness in his stomach said that he was more than just kidding around.

“I really don’t,” Derek stated.

“You know, there’s room enough in this bed for two,” Stiles suggested.

“Go to bed.”

Stiles pulled the blankets up higher around himself. “Fine,” he sighed.

\--

The thing is, Stiles knew Derek was lying. He knew he didn’t mean it when he said he didn’t like Stiles. In fact, he was pretty sure that Derek knew that he knew, too. And he couldn’t stop thinking about that, and what the hell it meant.

Because, sure, they both needed a break. No one would deny that. But the fact that they went t _ogether_ , they just ran away from their problems for a few days, escaped everything, with each other, had to mean something.

Stiles got out of his car when Derek ran into the store and walked around to Derek’s side. He leaned against the jeep and waited.

Derek arched an eyebrow at him as he exited the store and kept walking towards him. He stopped a few feet from Stiles. “Am I driving?”

“Why are we doing this?” Stiles asked quietly.

Derek looked around. They weren’t exactly alone, and they probably weren’t in the best place to have that conversation, but Stiles didn’t care. If he didn’t ask then, he wasn’t ever going to.   
“I thought you said we needed a break.” Derek pointed out, shuffling the bag in his hands, looking uncomfortable.

“Yeah, but why _together_?”

Derek’s eyes narrowed. “Why does it matter?”

“Because,” Stiles sighed. “That’s the thing; it _does_ matter. And I’m asking why.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Does is matter why it matters?”

Stiles hesitated, but said, “it does.”

Derek groaned. “Can we just go?”

“No.”

Derek made a low, growling sound, and then he moved forward, using his body to crowd Stiles against the jeep. People had to of been watching, by that point, but Derek apparently didn’t care, because he kissed Stiles full on the mouth, a few day old stubble rubbing against the skin of his chin, his lips slick and rough.

“That’s why.” Derek stated, pulling back, expression hard. “Okay?”

Stiles reached up to touch his lips. Derek took that opportunity to walk around to the drivers side.

“You can’t just kiss me to avoid questions,” Stiles muttered as he got into the passenger seat.

When Derek turned to face him, he was smirking. “Really.”

Stiles felt his cheeks burn. “Really.”

Derek sighed. “I couldn’t go with Scott,” he pointed out, not starting the car yet. “I can’t just take off with Boyd, because Erica would tag along. And Isaac won’t be separated from Scott for that long. So you’re the only option, unless I wanted to just run off by myself.”

Stiles frowned. “You could have.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to be alone,” Derek replied quietly, staring straight ahead.

Maybe that didn’t really explain why Derek kissed him, or why he’d done any of the things he did. But Stiles kind of didn’t care, because Derek had just admitted something huge to him. Something that he knew Derek wouldn’t have said to anyone else.

He reached over and put a hand on Derek’s thigh. “We should probably get going.”

“Right.” Derek agreed.

“You know,” Stiles added quickly, before Derek could move. “We did pass by another hotel just outside of Beacon Hills. Next time maybe we don’t have to drive all the way to Arizona.”

Derek gave him an amused look. “Next time?”

Stiles nodded. “Next time.” He repeated with conviction.

And Derek didn’t say no.

\--

Of course, there was hell to pay when he got back. Scott barraged him with hundreds of questions, Isaac kept giving him confused but amused looks, like he figured a lot more than just sleeping happened in that hotel room. Erica was the only one who didn’t seem all that happy to have them back, but Stiles figured that was because she liked being a dictator.

Stiles’ dad had no idea what happened, though, thanks to Scott. He was pretty sure he’d be grounded for the next ten years of his life if his dad knew that his son ran off for four days with Derek Hale. It was a good thing the school only had his cell number and therefore couldn’t call his dad when he wasn’t there.

“Are you going to at least tell me what the hell you two did?” Scott demanded.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “We just drove. And slept. Why is that so hard to believe?”

Scott gave him a suspicious look. “Because, why would you do that with _Derek?_ ”

Stiles shrugged. “Because,” he answered, and that was all Scott was going to get, because his phone vibrated in his pocket.

_Next weekend too soon? --DH_

Stiles grinned. _Not to soon at all_ , he sent back.

**Author's Note:**

> I really have no idea what happened with this fic. It's 5am and I needed road trip feels, okay? I apologize if this was really stupid, because I'm honestly not a good judge of my own writing at the moment.


End file.
